A Woman Left Lonely
by EmpressGalaxia
Summary: A woman can only wait so long for a man...and, whatever her species, Ryoko is definitely a woman. Hotsuma x Ryoko. >^..^


A Woman Left Lonely

A Fanfic by EmpressGalaxia

I like Hotsuma. He is most definitely the bishonenest of the bishonen. And I think Ryoko's bitchin' disco cool, too. And there was definitely something between them. Okay, maybe not, but I'd like to imagine it so. Read on, dear fan, if you'd like. Otherwise, piss off. Oh, and as for "I'll Cover You," "Buffy and the Bunny," and "Tenchi Muyo!: Out of Order," when my non-sexual muses return from summer vacation, I shall continue.

I own a Ryoko figurine. I also own a Vash the Stampede figurine. That's aboot it. Sue me and you will face the Angry Jewish Vengeance of my friend Sue. And the Super Computer Powers of Robin_Terrae. Mwa ha ha.

A tuft of blue floated on the surface of the water. Each strand played a delicate balancing act, fanning out like a flower. He watched this, unbeknownst to her. 

The owner of the blue hair rose up from the surface, taking a deep breath. He chuckled. He was one of her kind; they didn't need to breath. Maybe she had seen it done on that bizarre planet, and had just become accustomed. 

She squeezed the excess water out of her hair, and pulled herself out of the bath. The faraway look in her eyes told him that she had been thinking about that boy again.

_That_ boy.

That _boy._

His eyes narrowed and his lip curled. A Terran. A farm boy. A mere child. A goody-two-shoes. An idiot, for passing up this voluptuous beauty. Why was she so attached to someone she knew didn't want her?

Hadn't he done everything right? She had seen her boy kissing that phoney, that shadow. Afterwards, the kiss fresh in her mind, he had saved her from the Galaxy Police. He was her hero, wasn't he?

Hotsuma wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. He wanted to grab that Tenchi by his thin neck, and snap it in two. But he had hurt Tenchi before, and she had attacked mercilessly. She was loyal to that boy. 

She pushed herself out of the water, not bothering to grab a robe; she preferred to let her body air-dry. And maybe, just maybe, she wanted to put on a show for Hotsuma. Oh, she knew he was there. He was one of her race, and the funny thing about them was that one always knew when another was in the room: that pale yellow reflection of the eyes was an alert. 

When she had left the room, Hotsuma teleported away. She needed time. That was all. She would forget that boy, and have fun living with him, living as a pirate, as she was meant to do.

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Tenchi was holding her, touching her. He ran his fingers softly down the light hairs on her arm, bringing goose bumps to the surface of a skin she thought was too calloused to feel again. 

Slowly, he lied down next to her. He brought his lips to hers in a soft kiss. "Ryoko," he whispered.

"Tenchi," she replied, her mouth forming the word with such care, that the statement that followed seemed bizarre.

"Dammit."

Her dream shattered. This wasn't Tenchi. A fist curled and punched a very real Hotsuma in the jaw. Showing a rare display of modesty, she pulled up the sheets to cover her nudity.

"You've been told you are not welcome in my bed, _partner_." She formed the word with distaste and sarcasm. He was a good associate for plundering and destroying, but she thought of him as nothing more.

"Then I will wait until the night that I am. Someone as lovely as yourself shouldn't have to spend so many hours alone." He disappeared, leaving his final words with her. She shook her head and snorted, but for a moment - one fleeting moment - she agreed.

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She had tried to cook, and had wished she had paid more attention to Sasami whenever she did things like this. She kept cutting herself with a knife or a slicer, and nothing was turning out quite right. Hotsuma entered the kitchen - which he had rigged to resemble that of the Masaki household - to inquire about her continual screams of frustration.

She held up her bloody hands and gave another sound in response. 

He chuckled and took the knife away from her as he finished chopping the vegetable. She eyed the purple bruise on his jaw where she had clocked him just a few weeks ago. 

Purple. 

She glanced at her own hands. Her blood was a reddish purple, like his. It had never been a bright crimson, like Tenchi's, or even Aeka's. Only slightly off, but enough for her to notice.

No wonder Tenchi didn't want her: he must think her a monster. 

But to Hotsuma, she was normal. She was like him. She noticed how feline his eyes were behind the glasses, the same acute awareness they shared while pillaging. 

She brought herself back to the real world to notice that Hotsuma was staring back at her. 

_Can you even remember how long ago it's been, Ryoko?_ she asked herself. _Space pirating leaves little time for a relationship; do you remember the last time you were with a man?_ She knew she couldn't honestly answer herself yes. _I feel like I'm cheating on my..._

Images of Sakuya and Tenchi's kiss immediately came to mind. Ryoko was heartbroken, destroyed, suffocated. What about their date? Did he know how much time she had spent to try and make herself look beautiful for him? To make herself look acceptable? To make herself look...human?

But she didn't have to do all that for Hotsuma. He knew what she was, and accepted it. He didn't even have to think about accepting it, actually. There weren't any terms to come to, any hesitations to contemplate. She was Ryoko, and he thought her beautiful.

How long had she been waiting for Tenchi? Too long, it seemed.

A woman can only take so much.

And Ryoko, whatever species she may be, is a woman. 

She stretched herself up on her toes, and Hotsuma bent his head down towards hers. Their lips touched, each mutually accepting and giving the kiss. 

Hotsuma felt something awaken. He couldn't remember any other women before Ryoko. Matori and Yugi, if they even counted, but he had been transfixed on the blue-haired beauty from the first memory he could hold on to. 

Ryoko couldn't count the hours she had waited to do this with Tenchi. She couldn't count the different fantasies and scenarios she had played out in her mind. But she could count the number of times she had done this with him: zero.

She pulled back. "I, uh, I shouldn't have done that. Just...just forget it. I'm going out now," Ryoko stuttered.

She turned around, but Hotsuma grabbed her arm and spun her into his arms. "I can't forget it," he replied. Picking her up, he set her onto the kitchen countertop and kissed her again. "I won't forget it."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. One of his arms cradled her knees while the other reached behind her. He scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom.

At the doorway, he paused. "Am I welcome here?" he asked with a smirk.

Somewhat dazed from the onslaught of affection, Ryoko replied, "If you want me to take the time to go get a welcome mat, I might change my mind."

He carried her inside and laid her down on the bed, unmade from her usual restless sleep. He removed his long coat and tossed it aside as Ryoko reached behind her to loosen her top.

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Ryoko smiled, nestling her head into his chest. She had gotten such a good night's rest, she never wanted to wake up. But here she was, awake. And in someone else's arms.

No, this had to be a dream.

"Tenchi?" she whispered, rolling up to look at the face. 

No, Hotsuma. His glasses were off, and his hair was out of its usual ponytail, knotted and dishevelled from the previous evening's romp.

She gasped and sat up. What had she done? She was unfaithful to her Tenchi! Why? How? She must have been drugged. Or maybe this was one of Yugi's clever plans to separate them further.

But she remembered last night perfectly. What had been done was mutual. But why would she deliberately hurt her Tenchi like that?

_He's not your Tenchi, you moron,_ a voice taunted. _He's Sakuya's Tenchi, and he doesn't have any qualms about hurting you. In fact, this probably makes him happier that you'll be off his back, right?_

Ryoko remembered the loneliness. The vast expanse of space, the loneliness of the Masaki home while Tenchi was away, the loneliness she felt because Tenchi didn't love her. 

Hotsuma didn't make her feel so lonely.

And the previous night had left her feeling rested and complete. He had filled a hole in her life.

"In more ways than one," she remarked, peeking under the covers to find that neither had dressed before falling asleep. 

"Awake so soon, my pirate?" Ryoko turned around to see Hotsuma peeking at her with one eye. "I thought I'd knock you out for at least a day or two."

She arched an eyebrow at his arrogant tone. "I'll have you know, partner, that nothing slows me down!"

He reached for his glasses, put them on, and said, "Now, that's a much better sight."

She laughed, then blushed. She couldn't remember this ever happening before. Hadn't other men in the galaxy left her to wake up in an empty bed? Most hadn't wanted to sleep over. A great deal didn't even offer a "thank you, ma'am."

He stretched and pushed himself out of bed. "I'm going to bathe now; would you like to join me?"

She took the hand he offered and followed. Ryoko was looking forward to this new life. Hotsuma was her new love. He was everything she had always dreamed of, when she admitted she was girlish enough to dream. Everyone else was out of her life, including that _boy_ from Earth.

As she tried to unknot his hair while they bathed, she asked, "Do you want me to just cut it all off for you?"

He laughed. "Of course not. You know that this is a symbol of pride and wisdom."

"And strength," she added, running a finger down his muscular forearm. The subject was dropped, but she did wonder what he would look like with short hair...and maybe a little long strand right at the base of his neck...that would be perfect...


End file.
